


Borrowed Houses

by twentysevensummers



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Families of Choice, Gen, Missing Scene, Number Twelve Grimmauld Place
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-02-23 08:03:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23841625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twentysevensummers/pseuds/twentysevensummers
Summary: Harry and Sirius have an important conversation during the holidays.
Relationships: Sirius Black & Harry Potter
Comments: 23
Kudos: 162





	Borrowed Houses

Harry moved through the dark hallways of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, his socked feet scuffing the worn carpet floors, while the dream that had woken him moments ago replayed in his head.

He remembered more of it than he wished to. He could still see the group of people huddled in the photograph in the dream, their faces grave as they yelled to him warnings of a coming war. It had been months since he'd seen the photograph of the original Order of the Phoenix, but it hadn't stopped appearing in his sleep, which meant that while his recent fears surrounding possible possession by Voldemort had mostly passed, he still couldn't get a full night's rest. It felt pretty unfair, honestly.

Harry crept quietly past the sleeping portraits and the stuffed house elf heads with their Father Christmas hats. When he reached the staircase to the basement kitchen, he saw that it was lit with a soft glow that stretched halfway up the stairs. He paused, considering whether to head back to his room. He'd only wanted a glass of water and the chance to clear his head, and if there was someone else up and about, he'd likely be on the receiving end of an interrogation of sorts. But he was incredibly thirsty, so he took a steadying breath and padded down the stairs slowly.

It turned out to be Sirius, lounging in his usual seat at the long kitchen table. A dying fire was crackling in the corner fireplace behind him, framing him in golden light.

Sirius had looked up when Harry's foot creaked on the bottom stair. "Ah," he said. "It's my insomniatic godson." He flashed Harry a fond grin.

Harry returned the grin with a small smile of his own and scratched his head as the joke took too long to sink in. How late was it, anyway? Two o'clock in the morning? Three? "Hey, Sirius."

"Hey, yourself." Sirius leaned back in his chair, the smile never leaving his face. "Come over. I was just thinking of raiding some of Molly's leftover bread pudding. Want some?"

Harry didn't take long to consider the question. If the past few nights were any indication, he was unlikely to fall asleep anytime soon, and the company of his godfather felt welcome at that moment.

"Yeah, sure."

He moved automatically to retrieve the plates from the top cupboard, until Sirius stood up, stopping him with a hand. "Nah, take a seat. You look exhausted."

"I'm all right," said Harry. He pulled down a couple of plates, then almost dropped them when he lost his balance on one of the uneven floorboards.

Sirius chuckled and took the plates from him. "Really, Harry. I've got it." He pushed Harry gently in the direction of the table, and Harry stood uselessly for a moment before coming back to himself and claiming the chair next to Sirius's.

Harry sat quietly while Sirius raided the cold cupboard and murmured a reheating charm. A minute later, Sirius returned with two heaping plates of bread pudding. He slid one of the plates and a glass of water to Harry, then sat with his own plate.

"Thanks," said Harry.

"Don't mention it," said Sirius.

Sirius's attention turned to Harry again, who was picking up his fork slowly. "Everything all right?" he asked. "I didn't see much of you yesterday." His gaze was more intent than Harry was used to, making Harry wonder if Sirius could tell something was a bit off with him. The thought made him shift uncomfortably in his seat.

He nodded forcefully, trying to project an air of normality. "Yeah, it's all good." Maybe some other time, he would tell Sirius how the photograph of his parents in the Order was haunting his dreams, but he felt too worn down to bring it up now.

"Yeah?" said Sirius.

"Yeah," said Harry. Then, for something to say, "Almost Christmas, isn't it?"

Sirius barked a laugh. "It _is_ Christmas."

"Oh. Yeah," said Harry, a small smile forming. His eyes found the clock on the mantel, the hour hand just past the two. "I suppose it is."

"Last year this time, you were at Hogwarts."

Harry nodded, and tried to remember what that had been like. "Yeah. Working up the nerve to ask someone to the Yule Ball. And trying to figure out how to survive the Second Task." He reached for another forkful of pudding. "This year's even more complicated, somehow."

"Would you have rather stayed at Hogwarts this year, too?"

Harry shook his head. "Nah. Everything's a mess there." He swallowed his bite of pudding. "Anyway, I've never really had the option to be somewhere else, before." He looked away, embarrassed, as he suddenly realized just how chatty he was being. Then a question for Sirius occurred to him. "Did you go home for Christmas when you were in school?"

Sirius took a moment to respond, as he appeared to be remembering. "Some years I did. But I always regretted it when I came here. The best Christmases were at Hogwarts, or your Dad's."

Harry nodded. He could relate to that easily. "What were my grandparents like? No one's ever mentioned them to me but you."

Sirius smiled. "Well, they were a bit older than my parents, and more relaxed. Your grandfather loved to read. He spent hours in his study in the evenings. He loved listening to the wireless, too. Introduced me to all sorts of music." His smile faltered a bit. "Your gran, she was always thinking about everyone else and whatever they needed. She was a lot like Molly, in that way."

"How did they... pass away?"

"Dragon Pox," said Sirius. "Your dad was in sad shape for a long time after it happened. It was pretty unexpected. Hurt me pretty bad, too, to be honest."

Harry tried to picture how he would feel if both Mr. and Mrs. Weasley died. Just the thought of it brought a heavy pit to his stomach.

Harry found that he couldn't help his questions, now that they had started. He was suddenly intensely curious about Sirius's past. "After you ran away from home… Did you talk to your family again, after that?"

Sirius's face grew a bit more grim. "Only on a few occasions. The conversations were always short. Not much substance."

Harry had been wondering what he would do once he left the Dursley house forever. He felt pretty certain that he would never want to speak to them again.

"Were you glad you left?"

"For the most part I was. It was really the only option at the time. But I always regretted leaving my brother, Regulus, behind. He ended up in a worse place than even I could have imagined." Sirius's expression turned distant as he spoke.

"Sorry," said Harry quickly.

"Not your fault," said Sirius.

There was a long silence, and then Sirius smiled softly at Harry, as if he realized that Harry was maybe starting to beat himself up for asking such personal questions, and wanted to stop that from happening.

Then Sirius asked a question of his own. "You ran away from your relatives' house once, didn't you? Boarded the Knight Bus."

Harry shifted in his chair again. "Yeah. Aunt Marge—my uncle's sister—she's horrible. She was staying with us. I lost my temper. Couldn't stay there any longer."

Sirius simply nodded. He looked like he wanted to probe for more information but knew better. "What do you think about them? Your other relatives, I mean?"

Harry shrugged. "We've never gotten along." An understatement. "Mostly I just keep out of their way, these days."

Sirius nodded again, looking morose but unsurprised. "And when you were younger?"

"Pretty much the same, I guess," Harry admitted, unable to believe that Sirius had gotten him to speak so openly about the Dursleys. Maybe it was because he didn't look like he was pitying him. "I learned pretty fast not to expect much from them." Saying that out loud left a hollow in his chest, and he dropped his fork to his half-empty plate, then picked up his glass to have something to do with his hands.

Harry had often wondered what growing up with Sirius instead of the Dursleys might have been like. With his godfather sitting so close, the thoughts came flooding back, making him feel sad and a bit cheated like they always did.

"I hate that, Harry," said Sirius. He cleared his throat as if he wanted to say something more, then stopped. Harry wondered if he was lost for words.

Harry didn't know whether the uncomfortable silence or his exhausted mind was to blame, but abruptly, he said, "Do you think you would have... taken me in? As a baby? If they hadn't sent you to Azkaban?"

Harry wished immediately that he could take back what he'd said. Sirius looked surprised.

"Gods, Harry, of course," said Sirius urgently, shocking Harry with the intensity in his voice. He leaned forward, his hand rubbing his forehead. "I don't know how I would have done it, I would have been a mess. I wasn't at all ready to be a parent. But I would have. Believe me."

Harry's stomach felt like it had been gutted, but the rest of him felt a strange sense of relief. He wondered why he was having such a reaction, when all they were discussing were hypotheticals. He also felt that he needed to apologize. "I... sorry," he said lamely. "That was a pretty invasive question."

"No, no, Harry, it was a completely fair question," Sirius cut in immediately. He was watching Harry intently again. "I wish it had been different. I wish I could have seen you grow up."

Harry nodded, a yawning gap inside him closing just a bit. He hadn't realized how much he'd needed to hear those words until Sirius had said them.

"I'm really glad you're here," Sirius continued. "That is, I'm really damn happy that you're spending Christmas here."

"Me too," admitted Harry quietly.

The embers in the fire were growing dimmer. Harry knew that he should haul himself up to bed, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. A large, unreasonable part of him wanted to sit here with his godfather all night.

When the clock chimed three o'clock, Sirius finally rose to leave, and by then, Harry didn't mind as much. His thoughts had settled, leaving him feeling calmer. He thought that he might even be able to fall asleep now.

"Don't stay up too late," said Sirius. "I've heard that Father Christmas doesn't bring gifts for kids who don't sleep on Christmas Eve."

"Night, Sirius."

On his way to the stairs, Sirius paused behind Harry's chair and ruffled his hair. Harry looked up sharply, but Sirius only smiled at him, then clasped his shoulder for a long moment. His hand was warm. "You're a great kid, Harry, you know that?" he said. Then he placed his hand on Harry's head one last time before starting up the stairs.

Harry sat in the darkening room for a while after Sirius left. He drank the last from his water glass, and when the embers had finally gone out, pulled his body from the chair and trudged up the stairs to his and Ron's bedroom, collapsing on his bed. Ron was snoring loudly.

As he drifted off to sleep, Harry put thoughts of war out of his mind. He didn’t dwell any further on the chance of family he’d missed out on when Sirius had gone to Azkaban. The way he saw it, the world was going to let him have Christmas with his godfather, and for now, that would have to be enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Follow me [on tumblr](https://twentysevensummers.tumblr.com/)!


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